


Anachronistic

by lindoreda



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Bilbo, Masquerade Ball, Misunderstandings, accidental cinderella au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindoreda/pseuds/lindoreda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fairy godfather is never late. Nor is he early, he meddles precisely when he means to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anachronistic

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another one shot. Productive day, right? This one began life as a fake dating fic because I needed to practice writing arguments, and I decided I only liked the beginning... which turned it into a Cinderella AU? I don't know how that happened. Like the last oneshot, this one hasn't been beta-read, so let me know if errors stick out. Enjoy!

There were few things Belladonna Baggins expected less in her time of life (37 was not so old, but being still unmarried and childless, it felt it sometimes) than to receive an invitation to a masquerade ball in honor of the Crown Prince’s 42nd birthday. She had no noble connections, no business connections, nothing that would justify an invitation. And that was putting aside the fact that she thought a masquerade ball for a 42 year old prince was absurd- he could hardly expect to be anonymous when his name and face were known everywhere, so it was probably his sister’s idea, and anyway a certain amount of absurdity was expected in a country that still maintained a monarchy. The Princess was the youngest of King Thrain’s children, and she always got her way, even when it came to her older brother’s birthday. Yet, having no acquaintance with the headstrong Princess, the reason for Bella’s invitation must fall to Gandalf.

A mysterious acquaintance of her mother’s, Gandalf was one of those people who drifted in and out of one’s life on his own schedule, with very little consideration for what he left behind. When a dress and mask followed the invitation, Bella knew Gandalf was off on one of his whims again, but as one had so few opportunities in ones’ life to go to the palace, she decided not to question it. When she tried the gown on and saw the cut, she almost revised that opinion. Really, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn anything with visible cleavage, and the fox mask was a little much.

Okay, it was almost too much. 

Nevertheless, a petite vixen appeared at the palace on the appointed day, her invitation was found to be genuine, and Belladonna Baggins found herself entering a world utterly unlike her daily routine of teaching and wearing copious sweaters. She felt transported momentarily, into a time when royal courts were full of richly attired people who resembled glittering jewels, and whose words could cut as deeply as diamonds. It was a little intimidating, watching them waltz gracefully across the ballroom. Though no one could tell just by looking that she didn’t really belong there, Bella had neglected her ballroom dance lessons. Which was to say she’d never had any.

She was not the only guest who evidently preferred to watch the dancing. A man with a wolf mask leaned against a nearby pillar, watching the dancing couples with a keen eye. There was no shortage of eligible partners, so Bella assumed he was like her: unable to dance. She sidled closer, unwilling to waste her entire evening without at least trying to enjoy the party.

“Can you not dance either, Master Wolf?” Bella asked, unconsciously pitching her voice a little higher.

The wolf noticed her then, and his appraising gaze caused goose pimples to rise on her arms. It was decidedly predatory. “I can,” he replied in a rich baritone, “but a wolf cannot dance with rabbits, or angels, or sheep.” He gestured at some of the women’s costumes. They did overwhelmingly favor prey animals. “A fox on the other hand…”

Bella snorted. “Please do not think I came this way to beg for a partner. I cannot dance; whether it is with knights or wolves makes little difference when you lack the skill.”

“A skilled partner can make all the difference,” the wolf disagreed.

“You think very highly of your abilities for a man who had no inclination to dance not a minute ago, and did not seem to have a line of disappointed women waiting for him to change his mind,” Bella observed tartly.

The wolf did not seem the least bit put out. “Perhaps I was just waiting for the right partner, and those who tried me before have already found their partners,” he argued, the clear blue eyes behind the mask sparkling with mirth.

Bella was almost willing to dance with him for the opportunity of embarrassing him. “Are you really judging the suitability of your partners based on the costume they have chosen?” She asked. “What about those of us who received our costume with our invitation, having no hand in the choosing?”

“Even if you did not choose your costume, Mistress fox, it was clearly chosen by someone who knows you. Sheep’s clothing would not suit you.” He said this with such a decided air that Bella was taken aback. She doubted this man would think so if he saw her in real life, in her chalk-covered sweaters. Not that this wasn’t real life, but it was so far removed from her real life that it was hard to think of it as truly real. Perhaps that was why, when he offered her his hand, she took it.

It was not long before she was grudgingly forced to admit that he was actually a very fine dancer. She had no idea what she was doing, but he led her in such a way that she could almost forget she’d never danced in her life. Well, at the very least she managed to avoid stepping on his feet.

“And how do you find dancing with me?” He asked, and Bella was suddenly very aware of how close dancing brought their bodies. The placement of his hand on her back was respectful, but it was also very warm.

“It is tolerable, I suppose,” she said with a teasing smile. “You might do better with a more skillful partner, though.”

“Among the sheep? No.” He shook his head gravely. “They might have more experience or technical skill, but I would make them nervous, and they would forget all of that. You are not afraid of me, so you follow where I lead without fear.”

“Why would I be afraid of a man in a wolf mask?” Bella asked curiously. “Do you noble-types always read so much into a person’s choice of costume?”

“How do you know I am a ‘noble-type’? I could be an out-of-place commoner like yourself,” he said with a small smile.

“Ballroom dancing is not a skill too many commoners learn these days, and your comfort level in the ballroom itself suggests that you don’t think this kind of anachronistic party is that odd,” Bella explained as he spun her.

“‘Anachronistic?’” She couldn’t see his eyebrows behind the mask, but she imagined they were raised.

“Masquerade balls are like an old-timey excuse for debauchery, which hardly seems to make sense in a modern world with looser ideas of sexuality,” she said with a shrug. “For a Prince in his forties, it sends an odd message. My only comfort with regards to trust in our monarchs is that this entire party screams of Princess Dís.”

“You do not think Prince Thorin would choose a party like this for himself?” The wolf sounded amused.

“He always looks so serious, and he’s never even been caught kissing anyone by the media. I doubt he would suggest throwing a birthday party with the type of ball that used to be an excuse for trysts as his theme,” Bella reasoned.

“You seem to approve of that reasoning, and yet you are here,” he observed, spinning her around again.

“When you get an invitation to go to the palace, whatever the reason, you accept,” Bella said matter-of-factly. “It does not mean I approve of our very proper Crown Prince any less.”

She was pink-faced and panting by the time the wolf led her back off the dance floor. It had been a little longer than she cared to admit since she last exerted herself so much, and even longer since she last enjoyed exerting herself, so she was too busy catching her breath to notice that the wolf did not lead her back to the pillar where they met. Still holding her hand, he was leading her through glass double-doors that she hadn’t noticed before, into a moonlit garden.

“You seem to know your way around,” she panted, and he slowed his pace slightly.

“I’ve been here a few times before,” he admitted, stopping in front of a stone bench. Bella sat gratefully, and he followed more slowly.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, taking in the garden. The royal gardens were open to the public a few times a year, but she’d never managed to make it there. She almost regretted that; she got the impression it was even lovelier in daytime. At night, with everything freshly watered, it all seemed to glitter in the moonlight, like she was sitting in a field of stars.

“You are more beautiful,” the wolf said, caressing her gloved hand. Valar above, was she being seduced?

“You can’t even see my face,” Bella pointed out, not making any attempt to pull her hand away.

“I don’t need to,” he replied with a shrug. “I said you were beautiful, not that your face is. Though I am sure it’s a lovely face.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Master Wolf,” Bella replied tartly. “Really, I can’t help but wonder at your intentions, leading me to such a place and saying such things.”

“You seem to think you will never have the opportunity to visit the palace again, so I thought I might show you more than the ballroom,” the wolf said by way of explanation. He almost sounded shy. And he ignored the part of the question about what he’d been saying.

“College Professors get very few invites, especially when they aren’t doctors of something useful for international relations,” Bella admitted with a wistful sigh, forgetting that she might have given too much away to a man whose name she didn’t know.

“Perhaps that will have to change,” he said with a smile, and she realized he was still holding her hand.

“Oh? Have I made a powerful friend?” She intended the question to be light, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Perhaps. Close your eyes.”

Bella didn’t know why she did it. She was alone with a man she didn’t know. A risky situation for any woman, though particularly for a common girl in the royal palace. Class distinctions meant far less than they used to, but at the very least, this man could afford better lawyers. Still, there was something about her that night. She wanted to throw caution to the winds. He was probably seducing her, but when was the last time that had happened?

She should not have been surprised then when she heard rustling, and then there was a warm mouth pressed against hers. She couldn’t say what possessed her to kiss him back. If pressed, she would have said the same adventurous spirit that led her to accept the invitation to the ball in the first place, but that wasn’t entirely true. Bella wouldn’t say she’d been waiting for this man to kiss her exactly, but when he did, the heat between them left her gasping for breath. So this was what it was like, to feel alive.

That feeling lasted until she opened her eyes, and saw the man behind the mask. Clear blue eyes, a sharply angled face, close cropped salt and pepper beard, and surprisingly long dark hair, streaked with grey.

“Prince Thorin,” she breathed, grateful her own mask was still on. “It would seem that I was mistaken about you. Happy birthday.” She rose swiftly, struggling to keep her breathing even. Evidently she was wrong about being able to recognize him easily. And about many other things as well.

“No, you were not-” he tried to explain, but Bella was already walking swiftly away. Her visit to the palace had been lovely, but really, she was too old to endure being seduced by princes in the garden. Had it been anyone else, things might have been different, but he had listened passively to her talking about him. He knew how she thought of him, and hadn’t bothered to correct her. She did not wonder at him not following her. She did not realize she had dropped her invitation.

Belladonna Baggins, linguistics professor at Bagshot University, went about her life as if nothing had happened. Prince Thorin’s birthday party had felt very much like a dream, so it was easy enough to pretend that it had been one. Once she was out of the daring dress and back into her sweaters, it was easy to forget that strange ease she had felt talking to the man in the wolf mask. She was a dusty, slightly awkward professor, and that was the end of that. There were no twinges or regrets for what might have been, because nothing might have been, except perhaps a media circus if she had chosen to sell the story.

It was therefore surprising to pick up the newspaper around lunchtime the next day and find herself and the prince splashed across the front page. She nearly spat out her tea. Some intrepid cameraman must have been hiding in the bushes. She was once again very glad that she left her mask on.

Bella scanned the article, and came close to spitting out her tea again. According to the article, the prince was looking for the woman he met that night. He believed it was love at first sight. Ridiculous. 

Though oddly flattering.

Bella was shaking her head irritably, trying to shake loose such a ridiculous notion, when a clacking sound came from her office window. She turned, just in time to see a pebble bounce off the window. Oh, this had better not be what she thought it was.

Bella flung the window open, nearly collapsing onto the sill in irritation when she saw who was throwing the pebbles. Prince Thorin, in a suit, holding a bouquet.

“Did you get all of your romance ideas from 80’s movies?” She demanded, leaning out the window so that he would stop throwing pebbles.

“I don’t get out much,” Thorin admitted, dropping his remaining pebbles.

Bella sighed, and adjusted her spectacles. “Why are you here, your Highness?”

“I wish to court you,” he replied formally, and she just about collapsed on the sill again.

“It has been at least a century, if not more, since that was a normal thing to say,” Bella told him, leaning out the window heavily. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“None whatsoever,” Thorin agreed with a sigh. “We had a connection. I would like to pursue it, but I think you drew the wrong conclusion from what happened.”

Bella scrutinized him, her brow wrinkling in concentration. There was no point in telling him that whatever connection they had at the ball might come to nothing in the light of day. He could see her face, complete with over-large spectacles, and her bulky sweater was very visible, and he was still there. “You’re very different without a mask on,” she observed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It wasn’t the mask,” Thorin said with a self-deprecating smirk. “You didn’t know who I was. Being a prince is sometimes a disadvantage.”

Bella remembered what he said about making potential partners nervous, and how she wasn’t afraid of him. So that was what he meant. He was trying to tell her the entire time, and she just hadn’t caught on. Well, if she looked at it that way…

“I guess I can give you a chance,” Bella decided with a smile. “How did you find me?”

Thorin produced the invitation from an inner pocket. “You forgot something.”

Bella rubbed her temples. “What is this, Cinderella?” she muttered. “I thought my prince was supposed to come years ago.”

“I lost my way,” Thorin supplied with a wry grin.

At no point did it occur to her that she was leaning out a third story window, having a shouted conversation with the crown prince of the realm. In full view of students, faculty, campus police… and members of the university newspaper club, who broke the story.


End file.
